—Ch. 1: Into Your Known Thoughts (1)
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POV: Narrator !
Their mind was simple yet perverse, in its own way. It was the result of being so overloaded with such thoughts that they grew tired of themself, to the point of losing self-consciousness. It was all in a particularly extreme way, at that.
And so they felt little to nothing as they died on that deserted spot they chose as their place of death. At the strangely age of 25 years¹, it was especially hot, but such temperatures seemed to be to their liking for such an occasion. Despite claiming to be fed up with themself, this 'despondent one' decided to at least indulge in dying in their most "cherished" place, where they believed they "deserved" to die as what they believed themself to be.
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After narrowing their eyes and "caressing" something to their own body...
It was then that they finally 'died.'
Thus they were convinced they had finally "freed" themself, but...
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POV: ... !
Needless to say, I found it strange; I was lying in that spot where I had put an end to them. It was a desolate space—no one could have moved or stopped me, as I had made sure of it.
I felt more cold than anything around my body, which was somewhat pleasant as that place was pretty hot—though it did help with the pain. Anyway, after slowly opening my eyes with the fear that there really was consciousness after death—something I never believed, nor doubted—I realized how empty my mind could become, which was somewhat pleasant as "previously" it was more of a luxury to me—though it did help me get out sometimes.
Anyway, this display was fascinating.
—. Fascinating. __________. Indeed.
There is nothing and no one around me—nor an end to my surroundings, for that matter—no matter how far I tried to see, and on top of that with my poor vision—which was even worse than usual since I didn't have any aids around, though those didn't help much either, so to speak—
—I couldn't even if I wanted or tried to...
—. ...as it is worthless. ___ ____________ _______________. Indeed.
—, Well, what does it matter if this place has an end or not? It isn't within line of sight anyway.
White to my left and black to my right, those two tones are all I can see; they converge at my feet and don't seem to have an end. And the ceiling was the same, but with a reversed order—that is, it was black to its left and white to its right from my point of view, being different from the floor for whatever reason.
'Rather cool, I gotta say.'
Despite my confusion, I, suddenly, understood what it was all about as if it were natural.
—. You died and are now in front of two "tunnels"? What will happen when you do "choose..." How rare. Indeed. Indeed. Indeed.
First of all, there really was something after death, which sucked for me because it was my mind I wanted to get rid of at the end of the day. Secondly, I, who appeared standing in the middle of these two tones, had to move to one of them—I had to "decide," apparently—but only taking the black and white of the floor into account.
Why not the ceiling, you might ask? Gotta wonder, but I supposed that, in this space, I could well have appeared standing on the ceiling as if it were the floor instead, making the floor where I am currently standing the ceiling in that scenario.
'Perhaps it depends on the nature the individual had before standing here? That assuming that dying was the trigger for such a transmigration. But, would directions really matter that much—... No, the question is why would they?'
I had such thoughts after assuming this was some kind of questionnaire where I had to choose between "Purity" or "Impurity," which is what white and black are usually related to, 'this assuming that every living being comes here after death.' And that what I'm familiar with would resonate with those living beings as well—we wouldn't necessarily be similar nor have similar customs or senses, after all—but that's if such a space even takes its "guests'" speculations into account in the first place.
'But, I wonder what happens after moving to either side... "Heaven" and "Hell...?" But if that was it, what sense would it make for you to be the one to choose your own destiny
—if someone reaches that conclusion? I mean, an "impure" individual could see their actions as just and choose such a "Heaven," and not in an attempt to repent but out of selfish—... Oh, maybe this is a test? If such an individual does "repent," then they would go on their own accord towards the Impurity path here—assuming, again, that such an individual would choose to be punished and assume that destiny would bring them punishment, though, again, it all comes down to whether this space takes its guests' speculations into account—and then they would be sent to a "Heaven" or something like that as a result of their sincere repentance?
Assuming that the nature of the two tones is the same as what I'm familiar with and that the idea of this being about a "Heaven" and "Hell" is correct... But then—'
—. ___, ______ habitos. Indeed—didn't you hate that? Indeed... Indeed.
—, It doesn't even take much for such 'thinking,' but it doesn't sit well with me either—is it about merely not "liking" it, though? Well, I don't even understand myself either.
—. There something is, that we have in common. Indeed.
This could literally be about anything; trying to assume what it is seems quite...useless, or at least I think so.
And realizing I had "fallen" once more gave me nothing but bitterness.
'Hmm, whatever. Indeed.'
After clearing my mind and thinking that—as if forcing myself to stop my train of thought—I went to my right.
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It's not usual for me to stop myself of "thinking" so late, so it crossed to me in my subconscious that perhaps that train of thought didn't come from myself, but I simply stopped thinking once more and kept "moving."
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... I don't know how much time passed since I made the aforementioned stop to my thoughts—maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe seconds—but suddenly I felt as if my entire organic and inorganic body was being shredded and rebuilt in its entirety, without even being able to formulate any other thought—though I had already gotten rid of them all.
And the next moment, a flash of light blinded me, and little by little, the landscape that suddenly appeared before me became clearer.
The shock of so suddenly having perfect vision, unlike a few moments before—unlike ever, actually—was momentary, because that landscape...
—. ...was something outta this—our—world. Literalmente. Indeed—hah... Indeed.
Colorful.
That was the word that came to mind as soon as my mind seemed to clear a bit and I could appreciate a little of this landscape, but that didn't last long as a sudden dizziness made me lie down on the grass I was standing on and grab my head while I waited with tightly closed eyes for it to pass.
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POV: Writer—
1. Numerical age calculations differ from those a reader may be accustomed to, with one year being a portion of 0.7 of an Earth year in the "previous world" of the character retold in this chapter.
TBC in Ch. 2: Outta Your Unknown Thoughts (1)